


At Sea

by DiNovia



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anonymous Sex, F/F, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Set sometime after the promotion, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiNovia/pseuds/DiNovia
Summary: Kara finds something in Cat's personal archive at CatCo that reveals a side of Cat Kara would never have imagined. Intrigued, she investigates, and discovers more than she bargained for...about Cat, about herself, and about what she truly wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lisaof9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisaof9/gifts).



> This work would be nothing without my line-editor and friend, @catherinegrant, the brilliant Mayka.
> 
> She has worked tirelessly to bring the best possible version of this story to you, and I am grateful and amazed.
> 
> Thank you, Mayka.

Kara finds the out of place article sticking up in the bottom of one of Cat’s lateral files. Attempting to refile it, she notices there’s no folder for it anywhere in the drawer. She pulls it into the light to get a better look at it, hoping its title or content will give her some idea where it should go.

There are ten or so pages stapled together and the paper is thin and brittle, slightly yellowed, and curling at the upper right-hand corner. It’s not dated, and the title page contains only five words. Five _typewritten_ words, as in written on an actual typewriter.

**Nights at Sea** by Ondine.

_Who is Ondine?_ Kara wonders. _And why is this in Cat’s personal archive?_

She scoots backward until her back hits another file cabinet, and she settles in to read. After three paragraphs, her eyes bulge behind her glasses and she slams the title page back into place, hardly daring to breathe. She looks over her shoulder, even though she knows full well she’s the only person in the room.

The sea in the title is not the ocean. Not by a long shot. If the article is to be believed, Sea is the name of an exclusive sex club, and Ondine is a client.

Kara’s heart hammers in her chest. She knows what she _should_ do; she should quickly and quietly put the article back where she found it and forget she ever saw it.

The problem is she doesn’t want to forget it. She wants to _read_ it. All of it. Slowly. And maybe more than once.

She bites her lip and looks over her shoulder again. She’d hear anyone approach long before they ever reached the door, but she really _really_ doesn’t want to be caught reading this – which clearly she’s decided to do.

She flips the title page over once more.

\---

When Kara ends up in the archive every night for a whole week, reading and re-reading the article until she knows it by heart, she realizes she has a problem. She’s obsessed with it. She can’t put it down. Except when she has to because she needs both hands to–

Her cheeks burn. She can’t help herself! The article is clear and explicit and Sea isn’t _just_ a sex club, it’s a women-only sex club, and she tried to imagine Ondine as a generic, faceless woman, she did, but that lasted about as long as it took her to remember that _someone_ had to have locked the article in Cat Grant’s personal archive, and that someone had to have been… Cat Grant.

Cat Grant, owner and CEO of CatCo Worldwide Media. Cat Grant, who Kara would follow into Hell itself. Cat Grant, who she’s had a crush on for years. Cat Grant, who is so far out of her league as to be in the next galaxy.

The article reads as if it was meant to be published, but it’s not listed with the rest of Cat’s bylines, nor is there a record of any article in print by “Ondine.” At home, Kara searches the Internet for key phrases she’s memorized, finding nothing.

Well, not nothing. The song “The Internet is for Porn” was written for a reason. But she doesn’t find the article. This packet of papers filed in a locked cabinet in the CatCo archives is likely the only copy in existence. Which means she may be the only person other than the author who has ever read it. _That_ thought makes Kara shiver.

Reviewing the article from a journalist’s point of view tells Kara it started out as an exposé of sorts, an anonymous glimpse into a world experienced by very few. The author began as an observer with strict boundaries. By the end, though, she was clearly a willing and eager participant, fully assimilated into and fiercely protective of the world she’d intended to reveal.

Kara thinks that’s too much information to have about her boss and mentor, but Cat isn’t really her boss anymore – not since the promotion, anyway – and Snapper has made it crystal clear he won’t put up with Cat’s interference in Kara’s work.

“I don’t have time for brown-nosers and teacher’s pets, Ponytail,” he’d told her on her first day. “Make a career off your own words. Hers are spoken for.”

Deep down, Kara knows he’s right, but she misses Cat every day.

\---

When Kara seeks out the elusive sex club, she tells herself it’s out of curiosity as a journalist and nothing more. She’s gotten so used to lying to herself, she hardly bats an eye.

It takes her almost a week to find the building and she hovers over it now, listening to the soft conversations and decadent intimacies of the women within until her blood throbs against every inch of her skin. She aches for more than this furtive eavesdropping, but what little Ondine has written about the business side of Sea confirms exactly how exclusive it is.

By invitation only, referred by a current member, a hefty membership fee, non-disclosure agreements, blood tests and medical examinations…

The last one alone is impossible without Kryptonite, and the rest, well, even if she could somehow scrape together the fee, a referral from the only current member Kara knows is out of the question.

“No one’s in danger,” says a voice, and Kara whirls around in mid-air, cape snapping.

A woman steps out of the shadows on the roof, and Kara spots an access door and a dimly-lit stairwell beyond her.

“What?” asks Kara, gaping.

The woman takes another step forward, and moonlight catches an intricate spray of beadwork across the bodice of her black gown, making it sparkle.

“What you’re hearing,” she says, nodding toward the center of the building. “It’s consensual and safe. No one’s in danger. No one is here against her will. I’m very careful about that.”

“You are?” Kara can’t seem to make her brain work in tandem with her mouth, and the woman smiles knowingly, as if midnight visits by embarrassed superheroes are a frequent occurrence.

“I own it – the building and the salon within its walls. My clientele pay me lavishly for exclusivity and discretion. I have a vested interest in their safety and wellbeing.” The woman lifts a cut-glass tumbler and Kara hears ice clink against the rim. “There’s no need for concern.”

“Oh.” Kara shakes her head ever-so-slightly. “I… uh… wasn’t. Concerned.”

The woman raises an eyebrow. “Curious?”

Heat rises in Kara’s cheeks and she looks away.

“Interested?” the woman ventures gently, and Kara’s cheeks burn brighter.

“Would you like to come inside?” she asks, and Kara’s head snaps up, her eyes round.

“I heard there were tests – medical tests. I can’t–”

“Something tells me subjecting you to those would be a waste of everyone’s time.” The woman gestures to the door behind her. “Join me as my guest. See if it’s something you wish to pursue. If so, we’ll talk.”

Kara hovers in place. “No one can know who I am.”

The woman’s laughter is rich and ruby red, like wine. “That’s the point of Sea. We are all nameless in her depths.”

“But how do you–”

“We choose our own. For instance, I’m called Galene.”

“The goddess of calm seas,” Kara notes, and Galene grins, impressed.

“And what shall we call you, hmm?” she asks, the question as much a challenge as it is an invitation.

Kara thinks for a moment.

“Salacia,” she says finally.

“The personification of the sunlit aspect of the sea,” Galene says, nodding. “How fitting. Shall we?”

Kara follows her down the narrow stairwell into a private office that is both palatial and decadent. The surfaces – Galene’s desk, the credenza, the bar – are minimalist with clean lines and hard angles, while the seating – guest chairs, chaises longues, the conversation nook by the windows – are plush and welcoming. They pass through it without slowing and stop at a set of double doors which Galene throws open with a flourish.

“My private bath,” she announces, ushering Kara inside a room even more palatial than the office. Wall-to-wall mirrors and stone-lined waterfall showers surround several tubs large enough to accommodate multiple guests. Galene gestures to a vanity overflowing with cosmetics and hair products, then opens another door, revealing a walk-in closet. “In addition to your” – she flicks her eyes at Kara’s supersuit – “clothing, may I suggest a change of hair and eye color? I have several wonderful wash-out tints to choose from, and every color in the rainbow for contact lenses. All single-use, of course.”

Kara sits on the long bench in front of the mirror, and Galene catches her eye in the reflection. “Remake yourself however you wish, Supergirl. Your secrets are safe with me.”

Kara stares at her blankly.

Galene lays a comforting hand on her shoulder, then lifts a white beaded mask off a hook on the wall, carefully settling it in place. “No one will bother you here. Take as much time as you need. I’ll be back in a little while and we’ll go over the masks then, all right?”

Kara remembers the color-coded masks and what they mean from Ondine’s article. She swallows hard and waves weakly at Galene when she leaves.

“What am I doing?” she wonders, covering her face with her hands. Then she peeks through her fingers and looks at herself in the mirror, slumped over like she’s been sent to the principal’s office. Isn’t this what she wanted? A chance to visit a world she never knew existed? A chance to live out her fantasies?

“A chance to be closer to Cat?” she whispers.

Finally, the truth. That’s what Kara wants more than anything – to be closer to Cat – and coming here, experiencing what Ondine experienced, feels like the only way within her reach.

After another minute of staring at her reflection, Kara pushes up from the bench and heads into the walk-in. She runs her fingers over the endless racks of clothing, looking for anything that stands out. She’ll have to be creative, owing to Galene’s less muscular build, but there’s enough to choose from she should be able to find something that will work. Even with the difference in their heights.

Almost immediately she spies a familiar color palette, and she yanks a supersuit from amidst the other clothing. She’s shocked, and frankly, scandalized. It’s an abbreviated version – even more so than some of Winn’s earlier attempts – and it offers absolutely no protection whatsoever. It’s well-made, though. Right down to the sigil of the House of El that’s been moved from the chest to somewhere decidedly southward. The tips of Kara’s ears burn as she shoves it back into the rack, trying to keep from imagining Galene wearing it.

On another rack, a flash of indigo blue catches Kara’s eye, and she lifts the dress into the light. She bites her lip as she imagines herself in it, with fabric flowing down her body to pool around her feet. If she’s serious about living out this fantasy, then this is definitely the outfit she wants to do it in. She changes into the costume using a burst of superspeed and smooths the skirt over her hips, shyly pleased by her reflection. Satisfied with her choice, she carefully folds her discarded supersuit and sets it neatly on the counter.

As for changing her too-recognizable features, she chooses a pair of tinted contacts first, dark brown with flecks of gold. After they’re in, she works three different shades of hair chalk into her long blonde curls – midnight blue, blue moon, and blue steel – then pulls the result into a messy half-up ponytail that frames her face like a spill of waves. Galene returns just as she’s giving it a light coat of hairspray.

“Oh… my…” Galene urges Kara to stand, circling her appreciatively. The high-neck crop top flaunts Kara’s sculpted abs, and the dark blue skirt pours over the curve of her hips like a waterfall. “That looks better on you than it did on me. You’ll be turning quite a few heads tonight.” She leers wolfishly at Kara. “‘She who presides over the salt water depths,’ indeed.”

Kara blinks, suddenly remembering where she is and the goal of all this effort.

“I’m… I’m not sure I – I mean, do I–”

“ _You_ control your experience,” Galene rushes to reassure her. “You do only what you’re comfortable doing and only with those who’ve earned your trust.” She lays out an array of sequined half-masks, each a different color. “The color explains what activities you’re willing to engage in. All that’s left is for you to negotiate with whom.” She pulls two masks forward. “For example, green indicates you’re an observer only. You cannot touch – not even yourself – nor are you willing to be touched.”

“And blue?” Kara asks, running her fingers along the edge of the blue mask lightly.

“Blue means you’ll pleasure yourself for an audience of your choosing.”

Kara snatches her hand away and blushes.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” she mumbles, picking up the green one.

Galene helps her put it on. “If and when you are, you may change colors whenever you wish. We provide masks at the entrance and at the bar, and they can be brought to you by any one of the servers. All you have to do is ask.” She shrugs. “Some of my clients only ever wear green. They feast with their eyes.”

The air in the room seems to disappear, and tremors ripple down Kara’s spine. Galene wraps an arm around Kara’s waist and pulls her away from the lights and mirrors.

“Sea caters to a variety of tastes and comfort levels,” she says lowly, guiding her back into the office. “Public sex is welcome here, but there are areas that can be veiled by sheers for a more intimate encounter. Suites are available too, if complete privacy is something you require. We carry a diverse inventory of sexual aids and pleasure enhancements – from edible body dust to restraints – whatever you might want. As I said, you control your experience at Sea. There are only three rules.”

Galene stops Kara just inside another set of double doors which lead to the main floor and all the delights beyond.

“Which are?” Kara asks, staring straight ahead. She clenches her fists, forcing herself to take slow, even breaths.

“Every interaction must be safe. Every interaction must be consensual. And my girls, the servers and other employees wearing red sashes, they’re off limits.” Galene opens the doors to the salon and gives her a little push, whispering, “Have fun, Salacia.”

Wide-eyed, Kara steps through.

\---

Cat Grant has had just about enough.

Her well-ordered days are slowly spinning out of control, and it’s all Kara Danvers’ fault.

Again.

She doesn’t know when it started, exactly, but _something_ is different about her erstwhile ex-assistant, and it’s driving Cat crazy. Crazy in ways she thought she’d fixed when she promoted Kara and moved her to her own office. Crazy in ways that prickle along her skin like electric shocks until they settle as an ache between her thighs every time she sees the girl – which isn’t often these days, damn it to Hell.

It’s nothing new.

Cat has had to manage her completely inappropriate attraction to Kara since the moment she reached out to hand Cat a pen. That was during Kara’s _interview_ , and Cat couldn’t get that image – of helpful little Kara Danvers bent over her desk – out of her head for a week afterward. She should never have hired her, but she did, and here Cat sits, that slow, deep hunger simmering in her blood all over again.

It would be one thing if it was just chemical attraction. Cat’s had that before – hot liquid carnality that burns quick and bright and is out of her system almost before she’s done anything about it. But Kara wears cardigans and fiddles with her glasses when she’s nervous, and she still fills the ice bucket on Cat’s bar with M&Ms every other Friday even though she hasn’t been Cat’s assistant for months. Add those things to the fact that she’s also a superhero with a smile like sunshine and a heart as big as the moon, and Cat basically wants to lick Kara like an ice cream cone.

Kara’s been shedding her aforementioned cardigans like they’re a chrysalis all month, embracing a new, more brazen style, one that showcases that taut, lithe body of hers in ways that set Cat’s teeth on edge. Kara carries herself differently, too. She doesn’t fiddle with her glasses half so much anymore, and she’s declined two lunch meetings with Cat, giving no hint as to why. That alone is unprecedented.

At first, the changes unnerve Cat. They’re a tad reminiscent of that time Supergirl tossed her off her balcony, and she’s not eager for a repeat performance of _that_. But there doesn’t seem to be any accompanying irritation, leaving Cat to wonder at the cause. Could there be a new man in Kara’s life? Discreet inquiries prove that hypothesis false, and Cat’s as relieved as she is grateful.

As far as anyone knows, Kara’s life revolves around her work, and her articles of late have sharp, clean prose, deftly-managed sources, and hard-hitting topics. No more puff pieces or self-interviews for Kara Danvers, cub reporter. Oh, no. She’s out to change the world.

Cat knows if anyone can, it’s Kara.

Kara, the best assistant she’s ever had. Kara, her gift from the stars. Kara, straighter than a goddamned arrow, with her cow-eyed crush on James and her skittish refusal of Adam.

It’s that last point she repeats daily like a mantra, lest she make a fool of herself. Kindness is its own draw, but adding confidence to the mix just throws gasoline on the fire. Cat’s had to talk herself out of marching down to Kara’s windowless office three times this week alone.

“Make that four,” she mutters darkly, crossing to the bar for some scotch.

On her way there she snatches the pile of articles awaiting her final approval. Usually Cat regrets her tendency to micromanage, but tonight it seems like a welcome distraction. Only when she sets the articles down to pour does she notice Kara’s name on top, right below the words, “Her Word Against His: The Origins of Western Rape Culture.”

Kara leads with a pitch for a series of articles exploring Western rape culture and its effects on the modern woman’s sexual health. It’s a massive undertaking that will require commitment and stamina, but Cat knows Kara has both in spades.

Her drink forgotten, Cat drops into her chair and begins to read in earnest. She realizes exactly how screwed she is on page three. That’s where Kara’s notes on sexual orientation begin and she is _fearless_ , listing compulsory heteronormativity and bi-erasure among the factors that perpetuate the male gaze and male-centered female sexuality.

Kara’s writing has all the passion and fervor of a Gender and Sexuality major at Bryn Mawr, but there’s sophistication and depth to it, too. Enough to make Cat question whether she was specific enough in her inquires about Kara’s relationship status.

Hope, no matter how misguided, is _not_ something Cat needs right now. Neither is jealousy, and both churn in her gut, a toxic misery.

There’s only one cure.

She hasn’t been in awhile. Her return should cause a moderately-sized spectacle, which will feed her ego if nothing else. She’ll have Eve clear her evenings for the week, just to be sure. Carter’s at his father’s for the summer, so Cat has plenty of time to play. As on edge as she feels, it might take more than one visit to slake her thirst.

Decided, she stacks Kara’s pitch into a neat pile and drops it in her top right-hand drawer for review later. The one bright spot in this whole debacle – other than visiting Sea, of course – is that Kara won’t be able to say no to a meeting now.

\---

When Kara formally becomes a member at Sea, her only hesitance is that Ondine might someday make an appearance. Asking how long it’s been since she last visited will only open a can of worms Kara would rather keep hermetically sealed in a vault with no door, so instead she puts all her eggs in her superhearing basket, knowing she’s likely to hear Cat’s heartbeat long before Cat herself could make a proper entrance. And if that _were_ ever to happen, she’ll superspeed away as fast as her little Kryptonian ass can carry her. It’s the best she can do under the circumstances.

The thing she fails to factor in, of course, is just how distracting Sea can be.

She’s been coming twice a week, sometimes more, for over two months now. Well, _visiting_ might be a better word. She saves the coming for a less public venue.

She still chooses the observer’s mask when she visits, but now she has her own selection of diaphanous, barely-there sea goddess costumes, and her own cosmetics and contact lenses. Her hair is always blue, but her eyes change color depending on her mood. Tonight she’s wearing green contacts, and her hair is a playful silver-blue, plaited in a herringbone style and decorated with sand dollars. Her hip-hugging handkerchief skirt, white like foam, barely covers anything, while her matching top features strategically-placed beadwork that catches the light like a silver school of fish.

In addition to new outfits, Kara has also acquired admirers. On this night, Kara’s accepted an invitation from both Anuket, a lithe woman with copper skin wearing only a strap-on and gold chains around her hips; and Thetis, a lusciously curvaceous woman with masses of dark, curly hair and a killer smile. They’re a married couple who are utterly devoted to one another, but their blue-and-white-striped masks indicate they are open to performing all allowed activities for an audience of their choosing. Kara is one of three who’ve been invited to watch as Anuket and Thetis fuck. They’ve chosen one of the semi-private areas, draped off from the main room by creamy, billowing sheers.

The women lie face-to-face in the center of a small, round bed. Their public intimacy is both raw and tender, and Kara is captivated by Anuket’s hips rocking between Thetis’ thighs, by their messy kisses and their desperation. When Anuket laces her fingers with Thetis’, clutching her tightly as Thetis breathlessly encourages her with softly hissed yeses, Kara is nearly undone herself. Her skin is hot and tight, and she aches everywhere, throbbing in time with her own heartbeat.

She is so caught up in the couple’s lovemaking that she’s the last to hear the murmurs of surprise rippling through the room behind her. She whirls around at the sound, Anuket and Thetis forgotten.

“Ondine,” they’re whispering. “It’s Ondine.”

It’s then Kara hears the jarring heartbeat – the one she knows almost better than her own. It’s too late. Too late to leave. Too late to hide. Too late to review every questionable life choice that has brought her to this disastrous moment in time.

“She’s Diana on the hunt,” says the woman next to her, another of Anuket and Thetis’ guests. She’s tall and willowy, almost elfin in build, with long, white-blond hair. Calls herself Selene.

Kara doesn’t understand exactly what Selene means by her comment until she finally sees Cat through a break in the crowd.

She gasps out loud.

“Stunning, isn’t she?” says Selene and Kara can only nod, even though _stunning_ is a woefully inadequate word.

Cat Grant drifts through the room like an empress surveying her subjects. She has on white gladiator-style boots with buckles all the way up to her thighs. Her abbreviated skirt, comprised of two silk chiffon panels – one in front and one in back – is held in place by an intricate gold belt slung low on her hips. Her white mask, which she’s obviously had custom made, features Diana’s crescent moon symbol at the brow. She carries an unstrung bow and her chest is bare, save for a touch of gold applied to the tip of each taut nipple.

“She’s _magnificent_ ,” Kara breathes before she can stop herself. She might still have time to slip away if she leaves right this second, but she can’t seem to make her feet move. Instead, she just stands there, paralyzed and pulled in two directions, toward Cat and away from her.

Of course, Cat glances up at just that moment.

Their eyes lock, and the connection hits Kara like a concussion wave.

\---

Cat wonders whether she should have called to warn Galene, what with all the attention she’s getting. She’d expected a ruffle of excitement, but not the gentle press of this crowd of women.

Her name ripples around the room like the tide rolling in. “Ondine, it’s Ondine…” the hushed voices say, and Cat’s left pondering exactly how long it’s been since she last visited. She ticks over the months in her head and realizes with a start it’s been more than a year, just after the thwarted takeover attempt by CatCo’s Board of Directors.

Kara’s devotion during that disaster had driven Cat to Sea, where she’d hoped to cauterize the open wound of her growing affection for her assistant, safely and impersonally. It hadn’t worked the way she’d intended, of course. Cat’s partner that night had been lovely, with long, auburn hair and an equestrian’s body, and the sex had been both athletic and pleasantly distracting, but it had done nothing to assuage the ever-present longing in Cat’s heart.

She knows better than to try for anything but distraction tonight. Luckily, her Diana persona is impossible to ignore, and she has a dozen women buzzing around her like bees already. She inspects them leisurely, finding them all… adequate in their own way. But tonight Cat can afford to be selective. She has all the time in the world.

She stops to scrutinize a tall woman with long, jet black hair and a model’s build wearing a candy-cane-striped mask and little else. The white of her mask – and Cat’s, too, for that matter – means the woman’s open to all allowed activities, while the red declares she’s only interested in public encounters. As Cat muses over the possibilities inherent in that choice, a flash of silver catches her eye through a break in the crowd.

_Kara,_ she thinks, stunned, before she chides herself. Of course it’s not Kara. How could it be? Kara wouldn’t know about this place, and even if she _did_ , there’s no possible way she’d become a member. Even if she wanted to, how would she ever pass the medical exam?

Cat hesitates. Her body is clear: it wants the sea nymph staring at her with unconcealed stupefaction. But her initial misidentification troubles her.

_A little on the nose,_ she worries. An evening with someone so reminiscent of the woman whose attention she craves might complicate her life a thousandfold. Fucking an “almost” will most certainly fuck with Cat’s meticulously-balanced control around the real Kara, and Cat would prefer to save herself the embarrassment of being turned down, no matter how gently.

It’s then she sees the color of the sea nymph’s mask. Green. Untouchable, unfuckable green.

Cat’s disappointment is legion.

“Her name’s Salacia. She’s new, about two months now. Always in green. Half of us are beginning to hate that color.”

Cat raises a single eyebrow at the leggy model beside her. “And you are?” she asks, never taking her eyes off Salacia.

“Tufaan. It means–”

“Deluge.” Cat smirks, glancing at Tufaan appreciatively. “I know.”

If Tufaan is surprised, she hides it well. “Don’t get me wrong. She’s truly lovely and she’s an enthusiastic observer, but she seems willfully oblivious to the fact she could have her pick of the room if only she’d choose a different mask.”

Tufaan’s words ignite Cat’s competitive nature like a match set to dry tinder. Reasons for caution aside, Cat can’t back down from this challenge, especially with so glorious a payoff. “I advise you to pay attention, Tufaan,” she says, grinning. She leans a little closer and adds, “There’s a trick to the bashful ones.”

Cat’s on the move before Tufaan can respond. She stalks toward Salacia, and although the young woman’s eyes widen behind her mask, she doesn’t flee. Cat preens, realizing she’s snared her prey without having to nock a single arrow.

She stops in front of her little sea nymph and reaches out to tap the edge of Salacia’s mask with her index finger. “Green?” It’s a rhetorical question, obviously, but Salacia answers with a nod of her head, tendrils of silver-blue hair quivering with the movement.

Cat holds Salacia’s gaze for one breath, before she breaks the tension by raking her eyes down the woman’s body, lingering upon the swell of her breasts, her muscular abdomen, and the curve of her hips. She licks her bottom lip and imagines all the things she’d love to do to the girl.

“Pity,” she says when she looks back up.

Then she pivots on her heel and exits the club.

She does not look back.

\---

When Kara gets home, she superspeeds out of her costume and showers, staring blankly at the residue of her blue hair chalk swirling down the drain. Selene’s parting words still ring in her ears.

“Well, that’s that,” Selene had said, watching Cat make a beeline for the exit. “Ondine’s staked her claim.” She’d sniffed and looked down her nose at Kara. “No chance for the rest of us now.”

Kara can’t believe that’s true, but she saw Cat’s eyes dilate, watched her nostrils flare before she walked away. Cat wants her – that much is undeniable. But does she know it’s Kara under the mask? Or is she just looking for a night of anonymous sex with an attractive body?

Kara paces in front of her loft’s windows, arms crossed over her chest, hair back to its normal color and pulled into a damp ponytail. She’s got her long johns on now – for comfort, mostly, though they aren’t helping with the trembling much. As she walks, she wonders whether Cat recognizing her matters.

_The real question,_ she thinks, _is what am I going to do?_

That question is harder to answer. There are loud, direct, demanding parts of Kara that want to do whatever Cat asks of her, even if it means jumping from a green mask all the way to bone white. But another part of Kara, equally loud, keeps saying, _You want more than she’s willing to give. Don’t trade what you have with her for the shadow of what you want._

And Kara hears that part of her, she does.

She just doesn’t know if she has the strength to listen to it.

\---

Cat had planned to refrain from visiting Sea the next night, thinking to employ her trusty lighthouse technique on the maddening little sea nymph. Instead, she finds herself sitting in Galene’s private office, trading updates over glasses of truly exceptional scotch.

“You caused quite the stir last night,” says Galene, from behind the rim of her glass. “That’s what happens when you don’t visit for over a year. You become a legend.”

Cat scoffs. “Hardly that. Though the welcome did buoy my ego.”

“It seems to have pushed your ego right out the door! You were gone in a blink, leaving me with a dozen moping hopefuls. Did no one turn your head?” Giving Cat’s new Roman Empress costume an appreciative once-over, she counters, “Or were you stymied by a bit of green?”

Cat lifts her shoulder in a half shrug. “Can you blame me? I was interested even before Tufaan threw down the gauntlet. She’s flawless, Galene. Wherever did you find her?”

“Oh, hovering around outside,” Galene says breezily, and Cat can’t tell if she means it or not. “I invited her as my guest.”

“You’re not the type to take in strays,” Cat notes shrewdly.

“This one was worth making an exception for. After all, she caught _your_ eye.”

“She’s caught more than just mine, apparently – if Tufaan is to be believed.”

“Perhaps. But if anyone could woo her out of her shell, it’s you, Ondine. Have faith.”

Cat shakes her head. “She won’t come,” she says, ignoring Galene’s snort at her choice of words. “I flustered her last night; I saw it in her eyes.”

“She’s skittish,” agrees Galene, and Cat’s eyes snap up. “You’re right there. But trust me, Salacia doesn’t spook easily. Don’t count her out just yet.”

A knock startles them both.

“Yes?” says Galene.

The double doors open to admit Evelyn, Galene’s right hand. She sports a red sash and a knowing smirk.

“Blue,” she says triumphantly, then turns and heads back into the main room, leaving the doors partially ajar.

Galene’s smile is almost gleeful. “What did I tell you? Your faith has been rewarded. Go claim your prize.”

“What are you talking about?” sputters Cat.

“And who’s the flustered one now?” Galene teases. “Salacia has chosen a blue mask. Everyone in this building knows why.” She waves a hand at Cat, shooing her out of her chair. “Go. Find out what it means to be chosen by her. I promise, you won’t be disappointed.”

Something in Galene’s tone brings Cat up short and she shuts the doors, whirling around to face her long-time friend. “What do you mean?” she demands, suspicion scratching at the base of her skull. “Who’s your little stray, Galene?”

Galene frowns, clearly offended by the question. “You know I can’t tell you that. We agreed, no real names. You said it yourself – a connection to Sea could elevate some women’s status in the public eye, but for others it would be ruinous. Remember that?” Galene stares into her drink. “My ‘stray’ falls into the latter category.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” Cat counters, exasperated. “I could pull the _you owe me_ card. Please don’t make me.”

Galene glares at Cat for a long moment before getting up and storming to her desk. She yanks open a drawer. Retrieving a leather binder, she picks up a pen to write something within. Her large dramatic flourishes are meant to make a point. When she finishes, she tears the slip of paper out of the book and stalks back to Cat.

“I absolutely will _not_ be a part of anything that risks exposure for her, so here’s a check. Consider this repayment for that loan you gave me when the market crashed.” She tosses the check at Cat. “I don’t owe you a thing.”

Cat knows there’s only one woman on the planet that could induce such fervent loyalty in Galene, largely because the same is true for Cat herself, and for the same reason. She can’t be the one to put Kara at risk. She won’t.

Cat ignores the check and drops inelegantly back into her chair, covering her face with her hands. “What have I done?” The thought of Kara as just another anonymous fuck nauseates her. Then her head snaps up, fury searing through the bile at the back of her throat.

What is Kara _doing here_? How did she find out about this place? How dare she pick a blue mask? How dare she come back at all? Is it a joke? A prank of some sort?

She has no doubt that Kara recognized her last night. Masks would mean nothing to someone with x-ray vision. Cat seethes at the thought of Kara mocking her, until the still, small voice in the back of her heart whispers, _You approached_ **_her_ ** _, remember?_

Cat does remember. She remembers the stupefaction in Kara’s eyes and how Kara had trembled, like a deer about to bolt. She hadn’t even blinked, not once, and her only attempt at communication had been a single nod of the head. The evidence is circumstantial at best, but Cat can’t believe Kara’s intentions in coming here are sinister. She just can’t.

Cat pulls her hands away from her face. “When you said you found her ‘hovering outside,’ you meant that literally, didn’t you?”

Galene stares stiffly at Cat and then deflates, defeated. “At first I thought she assumed someone was in danger – or that I was running a sex-trafficking operation. But she was so embarrassed to be caught! Her cheeks turned as red as your stole when I asked her if she wanted to come inside. I thought she was going to have a stroke.”

“And she didn’t mention my name? Either of them?”

“Not once. How would she even know you were a member? You never published that article you wrote. And unless you kept it–”

Cat purses her lips and Galene rolls her eyes.

“Okay, so you kept it. As what, a souvenir you stuffed in a filing cabinet somewhere? And how would Supergirl just happen across that? Does she routinely offer to catch you up on your filing or something? I thought you had an assistant for things like–”

Galene stops dead, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly snapping into place. She collapses back into her chair.

“Are you telling me Supergirl’s alter ego is–” She scowls. “You’ve been pining for her for over a year! You’ve sat right there and–it never occurred to you to mention _that_ part of the story?”

“How could I? You said it yourself – you won’t be the one responsible for hurting her. Neither will I. I’d die first.”

The silence after Cat’s admission settles oppressively over both of them until Galene shatters it with a quiet question.

“Do you think she read it, then? The article, I mean?”

Cat sighs. “I don’t know. It’s possible. She asked to go through my personal archive a few months ago, looking for inspiration for a story.”

“Looks like she found it,” says Galene, chuckling briefly before turning serious again. “What if she’s been pining for you, too? Have you considered that?”

Cat looks at Galene witheringly.

“She came back,” Galene reminds her gently. “For the first time ever, she chose a mask that wasn’t green. That has to mean something, right?”

“Don’t start,” says Cat, holding up her hand. “This is the real world, Galene, not one of those saccharine little romance novels you love so much.”

Galene shakes her head, ignoring the barb. “Go find out what she wants. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s you.”

Cat stands. “I’m going, but only because I can’t bear to hear one more imbecilic word. Test your greeting card slogans on someone else.”

She turns and heads for the doors, ignoring Galene’s smirk. _You started this,_ Cat reminds herself, donning her mask. _Now finish it._

\---

Evelyn, Sea’s general manager, is on duty at reception when Kara arrives, and she’s already reaching for a green mask when Kara stops her.

“May I have a blue one, please?” she asks softly, hoping Evelyn can’t tell how dry her mouth is or how hard her heart is beating, beating, beating against her ribs.

Evelyn schools her expression carefully, but Kara sees the nanosecond of knowing delight in her eyes before she snuffs it out. She hands Kara a blue mask, and Kara almost hands it right back. She thought she’d found the strength to move from observer to participant, but has she? Even with the limitations imposed by the blue mask, Kara’s terrified – and she doesn’t even know if Cat recognized her!

What will she do if she didn’t?

What will she do if she _did?_

What in all the Universes does she think she’s _doing?_

Closing her eyes briefly, Kara stills her tilt-a-whirl thoughts, settles the blue mask into place, and squares her shoulders. She _wants_ this. She wanted it from the beginning. She can’t back down now. More importantly, she doesn’t want to.

She’s dressed again in the flowing gown gifted to her by Galene, deeply indigo like the night sky just before the stars come out. It covers more skin than any of her outfits have since, but it shows enough, and her heart flutters, thinking about the possibility of ruching the skirt up around her hips so Ca–

_No. Think of her as Ondine or you’ll do something stupid._

Anuket meets her halfway to the bar with a glass of champagne.

“We heard,” she whispers, nodding at Thetis who’s grinning at her from a few dozen feet away, and Kara blinks dumbly at her. Then it hits her – of course everyone knows by now what happened last night… _and_ why she’s wearing blue. Sea fosters intimacy in more ways than one, after all. “We are so excited for you.” Anuket presses the glass of Moet into Kara’s hand. “Drink this. It will settle your nerves.”

Kara knows it will do no such thing, but she tips the flute back anyway and drains it in three long swallows. Anuket laughs and takes the glass from her.

“Need another?” she asks, and Kara shakes her head. “Then take a deep breath, beautiful. Your empress has arrived.” Anuket nods at someone over Kara’s right shoulder and Kara turns, her breath catching in her throat.

Ondine is the most gorgeous woman she has ever seen.

The plunging neckline of her diaphanous shift and the deep garnet of the stole draped over her right shoulder cast Cat more as goddess than as empress. Kara walks toward her, hoping her legs won’t give out on the way. She stands for a moment, gazing at her former boss with wide, silver-speckled indigo eyes, noting each fleck of gold and each gleam of bronze in Cat’s costume.

When she’s finished taking it all in, Kara wordlessly lifts her right hand palm up in invitation.


	2. Chapter 2

Cat tilts her head slightly, considering Kara’s proposition.

_Surely, she won’t go through with this. She’ll come to her senses. If not about me, then about what she’s offering._

A frisson of tension crackles over Cat’s skin until she finally slips her hand into Kara’s – accepting the invitation against all her better judgment. She can’t tell which of them is trembling.

Kara tugs gently and Cat follows her to one of the semi-private areas. This one features a wine-colored velvet chaise longue set perpendicular to a modern leather recliner. Kara nods at the chaise, indicating Cat should sit. She does.

Dread, unexpected, sits like a stone in Kara’s gut. She thought she’d be able to tell if Cat recognizes her, but there’s been no definitive signal. If she doesn’t know, that would mean Cat’s participation would be based on a lie of omission, and Kara won’t do that to her. She can’t. It goes against everything she believes in.

Kara kneels at Cat’s feet and looks up at her, searching her eyes for any hint of recognition. She can hear Cat’s heartbeat thundering in her chest as Cat gazes at her openly, but warily. It’s not enough.

She knows what she’s about to do is frowned upon, but she sees no way around it. She reaches up to pull her mask away, only to have Cat stop her, long, elegant fingers encircling her wrist.

“Kara, don’t,” she says urgently. “They’ll see. Someone will recognize you.”

Kara’s eyes flutter shut in relief. When they reopen, they are fearful and hopeful in equal measure. “You know?” she asks, her voice barely above a murmur.

“About your heroic side?” counters Cat cryptically. “Since the day you pulled that copycat Sully Sullenberger move on our coast. About your identity here? Not until tonight.” She lets go of Kara’s wrist and lifts her hand, cupping Kara’s cheek lightly. “I release you from Ondine’s claim,” she says softly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” breathes Kara. She feels a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, and she averts her eyes. “I… I’ve learned so much at Sea. I’ve learned what’s possible between women, about our strength and our connectedness. About how we wield power, and how we give pleasure away _so easily_ while at the same time denying it to ourselves.” She looks up, eyes filled with guileless devotion. “I’ve learned about myself, too, about what I want and… and who.”

Cat inhales sharply, the nebulous longing in her heart clanging throughout her body like a great, sonorous bell. This moment between them should feel like a choice she’s making, but it doesn’t. It feels like truth revealed.

“I want to kiss you,” Cat says, swaying forward, but Kara leans away from her. Not far, but far enough.

“We can’t…” whispers Kara. “The rules…”

“Screw the fucking rules.” Now that Cat knows – now that her dream is right here, being offered to her on a silver fucking platter – she doesn’t care about the damn rules! Not when every inch of her body cries out for Kara’s touch.

Kara leans forward again. “Don’t you want to see me?” she asks innocently. Cat’s breath hitches, and then Kara sweetens the invitation with impish precision. “Don’t you want to see what the thought of you does to me? Has always done to me?”

Cat licks her bottom lip and nods. Desire, thick and sweet, pools low in her belly. Not only has Kara discovered the power she holds, she’s mastered it, too. Cat aches with the need to experience Kara’s newfound confidence. If sating that hunger means she has to play by the rules for a little while longer, she’s oh, so willing to do so.

She reclines into the chaise and drapes herself decadently over the scrolled arm of it, reaching up to play with the gold chain around her neck. Her eyes are dark with lust.

“Show me.”

Kara quakes at Cat’s no-nonsense tone, and takes her time standing before turning to walk the few steps to the recliner. She settles into it gingerly at first, then sinks further in, feeling strangely protected by how it holds her, as if in a goddess’ cupped hands. The leather is buttery soft and voluptuous, and she welcomes the faint coolness of it against her skin.

She’s painfully aware she has no idea what she’s doing, but Cat stares at her, imperiously expectant, just like the empress she’s pretending to be, and Kara wants to please her _so much_.

She lifts the pendant from between her breasts, pulling it over her head. Her long, unbound tresses catch on the chain, then spill around her shoulders in dark blue waves. Kara shivers, sensitive to every touch, to every breath against her skin. She drops the necklace out of the way, into her lap.

Kara’s indulged herself like this countless times since she first read the article. This time is different, though. She has an audience now – the most important one of all – and the air around her feels heavy with expectation.

Taking inspiration from the way Cat lazily caresses her necklace, Kara mirrors the movement and brushes her own fingertips against her left nipple lightly. It pebbles immediately, even under her top, and she groans, surprised by the strength of the sensation and how it arcs like a lightning bolt straight to her clit.

She does it again and again, staring into Cat’s darkening eyes. When she tugs at the taut peak of her right nipple, too, her eyes slam shut. Hissing, she throws her head back against the chair. The impact causes images of Cat to bloom in the inky waters of her mind. They’re dazzlingly breathtaking, these fantasies she’s returned to again and again the past few months. Of Cat reaching for her, of Cat caressing her, of Cat coming undone in her arms. Mapping the exquisite delicacy of Cat’s collarbones with her lips and teeth. Mewling at the rich, heady taste of Cat on her tongue. Measuring the space between each of Cat’s ragged breaths against the movement of the stars in the sky.

Kara cries out and Cat echoes it needfully from her place on the chaise. Kara opens her eyes only to realize she’s pushed her indigo top up out of her way. Slowly drawing it the rest of the way off her body, Kara revels in the wanton power she wields.

With Cat’s eyes upon her, burning with need, Kara teases both nipples until they’re stiff and craving Cat’s touch. She palms her breasts, cupping them to feel their weight, imagining Cat’s hands doing the same. Cat whimpers – it’s the tiniest of sounds – and Kara groans, wanting to hear more.

Inspired, she runs her hands over herself, over her torso and down to her belly, caressing herself, raising gooseflesh as she passes. She wants them to be Cat’s hands, Cat’s discoveries, but she knows she has to wait.

She’s so wet she’s not sure if she can. Her need paints the inside of her thighs and Kara wants so much to open herself to Cat, to offer herself as a willing supplicant.

Kara had planned to pull the hem of the skirt up around her hips while she pleasured herself for Cat, but that’s not enough now. Her heart thunders, but she wants – no, _needs_ this moment to be boldly decisive.

She’s choosing to be brave for Cat and Cat alone.

Kara slips her fingers inside the waistband of the long skirt and eases it down.

Cat had not become the Queen of All Media by being careless with her emotions. Vulnerability is the one luxury she can’t afford, and her blustery, mercurial CatCo persona is as much a protection for her as it is the anchor of her power. It has long kept everyone but the most trusted members of her inner circle at arm’s length.

Until Kara.

Curious Kara who tries so hard to hide her astonishing heart beneath a ponytail, a collection of cardigans, and a pair of useless, unflattering glasses. Earnest Kara, who wants nothing more than to please Cat, beaming when she succeeds and foundering when she doesn’t. Dauntless Kara, taking on so much responsibility, carrying the safety of the world on those broad shoulders.

Attraction had come first, and intrigue had followed quickly after. It wasn’t until the attempted coup by her Board that Cat realized how infatuated she’d become. The offer of a job with her wherever she went had been entirely selfish, made because Cat could not imagine rebuilding her empire without Kara at her side.

She’d foolishly believed she’d caught herself in time, that she could maintain a safe and professional distance between them.

She’d been wrong, of course. Kara’s inescapable brilliance had eroded Cat’s resolve a little each day, wearing it thin at the seams until it gave way only moments ago, right here, where the only thing separating them is four feet of space.

Cat watches Kara closely for any hint of hesitance.

There is none.

Kara’s gaze is fearless and a little wild. Cat sees the need humming through her, even at this distance.

When Kara groans the first time she touches herself, Cat’s belly jumps.

When Kara’s back arches and she pushes her top up, baring her rose-tipped nipples to Cat’s view, Cat aches to have them in her mouth, to kiss and suck them, to feel them harden against her tongue.

When Kara pulls her top over her head and begins to caress herself, Cat is there with her, tracing the path of Kara’s hands with hungry eyes, fingers itching to tease, to twist, to take.

By the time Kara pushes her long skirt over her hips, Cat can no longer keep still. She rises from the chaise and closes the distance between them in two long strides.

Kara frees herself from her skirt just as Cat perches elegantly beside Kara’s knees on the recliner, eyes dark and lustful behind her bone-white mask. They aren’t supposed to touch, and technically, they don’t. Cat grips the fabric of Kara’s discarded skirt like a lifeline instead. She nudges Kara’s leg with her hip and Kara crooks her knee, cradling it in Cat’s lap.

Kara gasps at the cool air against the wet heat of her center. She’s gotten exactly what she wanted – to be open for Cat, to offer herself, all hesitation gone.

“Show me, Kara. Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.”

They’re only inches apart, but it seems like oceans with all the rules of Sea between them. Blue means Kara can only touch herself, so she does, slowly at first, tugging again at her left nipple while tracing the sharp edge of Cat’s profile with her eyes. She pictures kissing Cat at the hinge of her jaw before nipping her way down the long column of Cat’s neck to her collarbones, imagines pressing her lips to the delicate rise of them, lavishing them with her devotion. She’s so close to Cat she can smell the lingering scent of her perfume.

Kara’s right hand drifts up the inside of her thigh, and she skims her fingertips through the wetness she finds there, slick and warm. Her eyelids flutter behind her mask and she moans lightly, Cat’s heartbeat leaping in response. Kara presses into herself a little harder with the next pass, crying out when she strokes her clit.

“Talk to me,” commands Cat, and Kara quivers against her own fingertips. They don’t have time for one of her longer fantasies, with romance and tenderness, long nights tangled in each other’s arms. She’s close enough as it is.

She thinks she can make it through one of the shorter ones. Maybe. It’s hot and perfect and – oh, Rao – she’s throbbing already, just thinking about it.

“We’re leaving my office to go to a meeting,” Kara begins shakily. She strokes herself lightly, trying to make the fantasy last as long as possible. “I forgot my tablet on my desk and I turn around, reaching across to get it…”

Cat’s thighs clench. The image of Kara bent over a desk – any desk – is one thing, but to know Kara has fantasized about it, too…

“I hear the door click shut and then you lock it. ‘Don’t move,’ you order – nngh–” Kara’s head drops back and she moans. Cat can tell how aroused Kara is, how the mere thought of Cat taking charge affects her, and she wonders how long Kara can hold out.

 _Or how long I can._ Cat is wet and ready and wants Kara’s hands on her _yesterday_ , but she also wants Kara to have this moment, to own this power she’s discovered.

“Don’t stop,” Cat whispers, and her tone is the perfect mix of command and plea.

Kara looks up, her pupils blown, and Cat leans in – so close she can feel the heat radiating from Kara’s body – and adds, “Tell me how I make you come.”

Kara trembles.

“I’m holding so still and you… you come up behind me. The dress I’m wearing has a zipper that stops in the small of my back and you unzip me. Slowly.” Cat can see Kara’s mouthwatering arousal glistening on her thighs. Her urge to taste Kara, to devour her, is overwhelming.

“You push it open and k-kiss my back. Down my spine. I’m… I’m not wearing a bra.”

 _Of course you aren’t, darling,_ thinks Cat, but she keeps her smirk to herself.

“You slide your hands up from my hips and around my s-sides until you’re cupping my breasts…” Kara’s panting now and her voice is breathy, barely there, but she doesn’t take her eyes from Cat’s. Not for a second.

“You press your hips against me… against my ass… and I feel you rock into me.”

Cat grips the arm of the recliner hard enough to claw right through it.

“You’re twisting… my nipples,” Kara continues, and her hand quickens its movements between her thighs. “Your thrusts get harder… and I press back into you. I’m so wet, Cat. So… wet.”

“Yessss…” Cat licks her lips sensually.

“You… you can’t wait any longer. You push my… my skirt up…” Kara’s hips begin to rock in time with her strokes and Cat knows she’s close, so close. The sound of Kara’s fingers slipping through her wetness drives Cat mad, and she leans forward until they’re almost pressed together. Cat curls both hands into fists, and she shakes with the effort of keeping them to herself.

“You… you…” Kara knows she’s going to come soon, but it’s not right anymore, not what she needs.

She needs Cat.

“Cat, _please_ ,” she pleads, her breath coming in shuddering sobs. “ _Please…_ ”

Cat understands in a flash, and she reaches for Kara just as Kara reaches back. They clutch at one another, mouths crashing together in a kiss so deep, so utterly erotic, Cat can’t tell where she begins and Kara ends. When they part, Cat finds her hand wound into Kara’s long, blue curls.

“Please what, Kara?”

They are frozen together in a millisecond of time that seems to last for an eternity until Kara finally surrenders.

“Please fuck me…” she begs, but Cat is already there, already inside her, filling her, driving her higher. And it’s more – a thousand times more, a thousand times deeper, a thousand times more intimate than anything Kara has ever imagined until she’s there, there, _oh, Rao, there,_ and Cat presses her mouth to Kara’s neck, biting, kissing, holding her together even as Kara comes apart in her hands…

Cat caresses Kara softly as she comes back to herself, cupping her gently before slipping out of her, pressing a sweet kiss to Kara’s cheek. The taste of salt on her tongue alarms her and she pulls back, threading her fingers through Kara’s hair.

“Darling?”

Kara turns and looks at her, smiling tremulously. She doesn’t need to say a thing; Cat sees it all in her eyes.

“I know,” she whispers. “Me too.”

They sit there together, basking, until the reality of where they are sets in, and Kara blushes hotly, looking away sheepishly.

“Will we get in trouble?” she asks, and it takes a moment for Cat to understand the question.

“No,” Cat assures her gently. “It’s what we both wanted. As long as it’s safe and consensual, Galene understands there are times when we can’t follow the rules to the letter.” When Kara doesn’t quite look convinced, she adds, “If you think it’s necessary, I’ll have a word with her. She’ll listen to me.” She winks conspiratorially. “I happen to know the silent partner.”

It’s Kara’s turn for confusion, but when she catches on, the smile that blooms on her face is like a moon rising, steady and bright.

“Oh,” she says.

“Oh,” echoes Cat, and she chuckles fondly.

They’re holding hands now, and the silence between them is both comfortable and contented.

Until it’s not.

Kara’s face falls in tiers, like a sandcastle succumbing to the tide.

“What happens now?” she asks, and Cat notes the tiny, worried frown stamped into her forehead, and the way she darts her eyes away, nervous and unsure.

Cat squeezes Kara’s hand and ducks her head to catch Kara’s gaze.

“You say Sea taught you things about yourself, and those are things I’d like to learn. From you.” She brushes Kara’s cheek under the mask with her fingertips. “Will you teach me?”

“Yes,” Kara says, without hesitation. “Of course I will, Cat. I’ll tell you anything. Everything. Whatever you want to know.”

Cat makes a show of considering for a moment, before leaning forward provocatively.

“Why don’t we start with something simple – like where you live.”

When Kara blinks at her, Cat kisses the spot just below her ear.

“Take me home with you, Kara,” she purrs huskily. “No masks, no rules…”

Kara tips her head up, kissing Cat deeply. When they part, she skims her thumb along Cat’s bottom lip.

“Just us,” she whispers back.

_fin_


End file.
